Sometimes, I am wrong
Don’t act all surprised; it happens.
First, although I still detest the bureaucracy of the French government with a good amount of the fibers of my being, it can’t be with every single fiber. Remember that radiologie appointment that I was supposed to go to in Bourg en Bresse, 5.5 hours away? Well, it’s not there. They gave me the wrong info. I’m actually going to an office in Valence on the same day as my other OFII appointment. So I still need to go into Valence, a three-hour trip, for the day, and it’s still on my heaviest class day, but it’s only that one day. Could be worse. I thought it was.
Secondly, remember the dinosaurs? I have been politely reminded by a good friend of mine that I am, in fact, an Allisaurus. (This is closely related to the Mimisaurus, but a very distant several-times-removed cousin of the raptor.) So saying that I wasn’t old enough to talk to the dinosaurs was an inadvertent white lie. In his words: “In all fairness to your school kids, you have claimed to be an Allisaurus; how were they to know you considered yourself to be too good for most other dinosaurs?” I apologize for this slight on my part. J’ai pas fait exprès! (It wasn’t on purpose!)
In other news, life is going much better, mostly because of increased social contact and the promise of more of the same. Over Thanksgiving, I went and celebrated with different people in both Montélimar (on Thursday) and Lyon (two days later). This weekend, I was in Pierrelatte with two other assistants who average out to my geek level, and we spent an evening at a Christmas market and in front of a laptop, watching Firefly, Serenity, and Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. If you’ve never heard of these, you need to go look them up and/or watch them within the next two minutes, otherwise your life will continue with a void in your soul. Well, not quite that extreme…but they’re excellent pieces of television/cinema/webinometry. That last word is made up. But I digress. That was the actual social contact — the promise of more comes from the fact that we’re already well into December. I go home for a week on December 18. We’ll see if I remember how to be American by then.